The great C.B. Martin defines memory in such a way that the event in question only has to leave a trace in the mind of the rememberer, via a non-deviant causal chain. Of course, we all laugh at such reductivism. However, the traces in my mind, eroded by the ever-washing tide of Sauvignon blanc, have been bolstered by these handy photocopies of the scorebook sent to me by Jim. And, lo, as the invisible ink of procrastination is made visible by the candle of necessity, I find the match returning to me.
Kinross was a new fixture for the Mystics. John Stewart, the captain, was a very civil fellow and made us feel welcome. The Mystics batted first. A good innings with a number of notable features. First, the opposition needed to call on one or two of us to field. Fatal for Fred, who was run out for one by a direct hit from Ollie. Your reporter hit the best four of his life with a straight drive past the bowler (it was also the worst of his life). Annie, who batted bravely for nought, was run out following some bizarre calling from Jim. The fielder in question, whose name is not recorded, spent the rest of the match, even the rest of the evening, looking like the chap who shot the albatross.
However, fans of "Prince of Persia" must have had an uncanny feeling of déja vu. For 78 glorious runs, the brothers Healey turned the wicket into a perfect symmetry, and the match into a glorious victory. We made 146 for 7.
Kinross had a good fourth wicket stand, with Wilson making a convincing 72 before being bowled by Ollie (who finished with 3 for 12 including two wickets in consecutive balls). The match also had the distinction of being the occasion for the first of, one hopes, many Mystic wickets taken by Annie - a good catch from the less expensively coiffured Healey.
Marvelous, marvelous match.